Part 59

Back home the women and the children and the old folks had a good roof over their heads; the fishers had the deck of a tidy schooner under their feet. Shiftlessness departed from them. After years of oppression they had found their opportunity. More experienced men would have found this new fortune only modest; these men grasped it with juvenile enthusiasm.

They were over the side of the schooner and out in their dories when more cautious trawlsmen hugged the fo'c'sle. On their third trip, because of this daring, they caught the city market bare on a Thursday and made a clean-up.

“I'm told that Saint Peter started this Friday notion because he was in the fish business,” stated Captain Candage, sorting money for the shares. “All I've got to say is, he done a good job of it.”

Mr. Speed, sailing as mate, always found ready obedience.

Smut-nosed Dolph never listened before to such praise as was lavished by the hungry men over the pannikins which he heaped.

Captain Mayo, casting up accounts one day, was honestly astonished to find that almost a month had passed since he had landed at Maquoit.

“That goes to show how a man will get interested when he is picked up and tossed into a thing,” he said to Polly Candage.

“You are making real men of them, Captain Mayo!” She added, with a laugh, “And you told me you were no kind of a hand at making over human nature!”

“They are doing it themselves.”

“I will say nothing to wound your modesty, sir.”

“Now I must wake up. I must! There's nothing worth while in the profit for both your father and myself. I want him to have the proposition alone. There'll be a fair make for him. I didn't intend to stay here so long. I guess I sort of forgot myself.” He went on with his figures.

“But I knew you could not forget,” she ventured, after a pause.

He glanced up and found a queer expression on her countenance. There were frank sympathy and friendliness in her eyes. He had revolved bitter thoughts alone, struggling with a problem he could not master. In sudden emotion--in an unpremeditated letting-go of himself--he reached out for somebody in whom to confide. He needed counsel in a matter where no man could help him. This girl was the only one who could understand.

“There may be letters waiting for me in the city--in the big city where I may be expected,” he blurted. “I haven't dared to send any.” He hesitated, and then gave way to his impulse. “Miss Polly, I haven't any right to trouble you with my affairs. I may seem impertinent. But you are a girl! Does a girl usually sit down and think over all the difficulties--when she doesn't get letters--and then make allowances?”

“I'm sure she does--when she loves anybody.”

“And yet it may seem very strange. I am worried out of my senses. I don't know what to do.”

She was silent for a long time, looking away from him and twisting her hands in her lap; she was plainly searching her soul for inspiration--and courage!

“You think she will understand the situation?” he insisted.

“She ought to.”

“But no word from me! Silence for weeks!”

Her voice was low, but she evidently had found courage. “I have not heard one word--not a letter has come to me--since I left my aunt's home.”

“Do you feel sure that he loves you just the same? You don't need letters?”

“Oh no! I don't need letters.”

“But in my case?”

“I could see that she loves you very much. She stood out before them all, Captain Mayo. That sort of a girl does not need letters.”

“You have put new courage in me. I believe you understand just how a girl would feel. You know a Yankee! He expects to find a friend just where he left him, in the matter of affection.”

“A girl does not need to be a Yankee to be that way in her love.”

“I can't sneak around to her by the back way--I can't do that!” he cried. “I don't want to be ashamed of myself. I don't want to bring more trouble to her. Don't you think she will wait for me until I can come--and come right!”